Untitled Episode
1590 Words
Aurora didn’t stop running until she burst out of the building and into the freezing night air. She staggered to a halt on the sidewalk, gripping a metal railing as her breath misted in short, panicked clouds.
The street was empty.
Silent.
Still.
It shouldn’t have been comforting—
but it was.
For a moment.
Her phone buzzed again.
She looked down with a trembling hand.
Unknown: You need to get somewhere public. Don’t go back inside.
Aurora swallowed hard, looking over her shoulder as if expecting the shadow to step out of the doorway behind her.
She typed:
Aurora: Who was in my apartment?
A pause.
Then—
Unknown: Someone who isn’t working alone.
Her heart lurched painfully.
Aurora: Why do they care about me? Why now?
Unknown: Because Viktor reacted to you. That changed everything.
Aurora froze.
The wind whipped her hair across her face, but she didn’t move.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered aloud to no one.
Unknown: He wasn’t supposed to lose control in that room.
Unknown: He wasn’t supposed to recognize you.
Her fingers went numb around the phone.
Recognize her?
Her mind raced back to the way Viktor’s gaze had locked onto hers the moment she sat down across from him today.
Not curious.
Not annoyed.
Not indifferent.
It was deeper.
As if he’d seen her before.
As if he’d been waiting.
Her stomach twisted.
Aurora: Why would Viktor recognize me? I've never met him before.
This time the pause was even longer.
She could feel her pulse in her teeth.
Finally:
Unknown: You have.
Aurora’s breath faltered.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
“No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s not possible. I would remember someone like him.”
Her mother’s face flickered in her mind.
Her laughter.
Her warmth.
Her funeral.
A sharp pain shot through Aurora’s chest.
Aurora: Just tell me the truth.
Another long pause.
Then—
Unknown: You were there the night your mother died.
The world tilted.
Aurora stumbled back against the cold brick wall of her building, gripping it to steady herself.
“No,” she breathed. “No, I wasn’t. She—she died alone. They told me—”
Unknown: They lied.
Aurora’s pulse roared.
Her throat felt tight, unsteady.
Aurora: What does Viktor have to do with it?
Unknown: He saved you.
Aurora’s entire body went numb.
She stared at the message, unable to blink.
Saved her?
Her?
From what?
From who?
From the shadow that stood in her hallway tonight?
From the truth she’d been shielded from for five years?
From the memory she couldn’t reach?
Her hands shook.
Aurora: Why would Viktor save me? He’s a monster.
The reply came fast.
Too fast.
Unknown: Monsters protect what they claim.
Her heart thudded violently.
She didn’t like the way that sentence made her feel—
cold,
exposed,
wanted in the worst, most dangerous way.
“What does that mean?” she whispered to the night, her voice cracking.
As if in answer, her phone buzzed again:
Unknown: Get to the police station.
Unknown: Do not go anywhere else.
Unknown: Do not trust anyone who tries to stop you.
Aurora hesitated.
Not because she doubted the danger—
but because the police station was run by the same people her “teacher,” Kellen, worked with.
And Kellen had lied.
Used her.
Chosen her for this assignment.
And Viktor…
Viktor had warned her about people like him.
Her breath shivered.
Aurora: Why would I go to the police when I don’t know who to trust?
The reply came with brutal calm:
Unknown: Because they’re not the ones hunting you tonight.
Aurora took a step forward—
shaking, terrified, determined.
But before she could take another—
A low black car turned the corner at the end of the street.
Slow.
Silent.
Too deliberate.
Aurora’s breath hitched.
The car rolled to a stop.
The engine cut.
The headlights dimmed.
A door opened.
A man stepped out.
Tall.
Dressed in dark, unmarked clothing.
Hands gloved.
Face shadowed.
He turned his head—
and looked directly at her.
Aurora’s heart stopped.
Her phone buzzed.
She didn’t want to look.
But she did.
Unknown: Run.
Aurora didn’t think.
Didn’t breathe.
Didn’t hesitate.
She ran.
And behind her, the man from the car began to follow—
silent, steady, relentless—
as if he’d been waiting for this moment.
As if he’d been waiting for her.
Aurora sprinted down the sidewalk, her breath tearing out of her chest in sharp, ragged gasps. The cold night air cut at her lungs, her bare feet slapping against pavement that felt like ice, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop.
Behind her, the man’s footsteps echoed with terrifying calm.
Not rushed.
Not frantic.
Certain.
Predators never rushed.
Aurora’s mind spun wildly.
Who was he? Why her? Why now? Why did Viktor’s name keep circling this nightmare like a ghost?
Her phone buzzed again in her hand as she ran.
Unknown: Don’t go straight. Take the alley.
She skidded, changed direction, nearly slipped, caught herself, and darted into a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings.
The darkness swallowed her.
The sounds of the city vanished.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
The alley smelled like cold metal, rain-soaked concrete, and something faintly chemical. Old graffiti peeled from the walls like forgotten warnings.
Aurora pressed her back against the brick, chest heaving, listening hard.
Footsteps.
Steady.
Getting closer.
She held her breath until her ribs ached.
Her phone buzzed again.
She looked down.
Unknown: Quiet.
As if whoever was texting her could hear her breathing.
Then another message:
Unknown: He’s armed. He won’t hesitate.
Aurora swallowed down a cry.
Her pulse hammered violently, sweat beading at her temple.
She typed as silently as she could:
Aurora: Why is he after me?
The reply came fast, brutal:
Unknown: Because you’re Viktor’s unfinished business.
Her stomach dropped.
Her heart skipped painfully.
Unfinished.
What did that mean?
Her mind spiraled—
Viktor slamming the table
the shock in his eyes
the way he said her name
the truth tangled in her mother’s death
the night she had supposedly forgotten
She typed back, fingers trembling:
Aurora: Tell me what Viktor did.
A pause.
Then—
Unknown: Not here.
Unknown: Move.
Aurora pressed her hand to her mouth to steady her breathing.
The shadow appeared at the mouth of the alley.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
She flinched backward.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown: Go LEFT. NOW.
She bolted.
The man lunged after her, footsteps thundering behind her now—finally urgent, finally a threat.
She sprinted through the alley, turning sharply left into another narrow passageway. Something metallic scraped behind her—
a weapon?
a blade?
her fear?
She didn’t look back.
She couldn’t.
Her legs burned, her lungs felt like they were ripping open, but adrenaline pushed her forward. Her hair whipped around her face as she ran, her breath coming out in raw, frantic gasps.
She emerged onto another street—this one darker, quieter, lit only by the dim glow of a broken streetlight.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Keep running. Don’t look behind you.
She didn’t.
She ran until her chest burned, until her muscles screamed, until the cold night air blurred into streaks around her vision.
But then—
A voice cut through the darkness.
Deep.
Cold.
Commanding.
“Stop running.”
Aurora’s blood froze.
Every muscle locked.
She skidded to a stop under the flickering streetlight, chest heaving, eyes wide.
The man stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the street, blocking her escape completely.
He was tall—taller than she expected.
Broad shoulders.
Gloved hands.
A gun holstered at his hip.
But it was his voice that terrified her.
Not because it was low.
Not because it was calm.
But because there was something… familiar about it.
“You need to come with me,” he said, stepping forward slowly. “Now.”
Aurora’s throat tightened.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
His jaw clenched.
“I don’t want anything from you.”
He stepped closer, expression hardening—
“I’m here to clean up someone else’s mess.”
Her stomach twisted.
Someone else’s mess?
“Viktor?” she breathed.
The man stopped walking.
His eyes sharpened.
His jaw tightened.
And then—
He smiled.
A cold, cruel smile.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
Aurora stepped back instinctively.
The man reached for something behind him—
Aurora’s phone buzzed violently in her hand.
She looked down.
One message.
From the unknown number.
Urgent.
Final.
Absolute.
Unknown: Aurora. DROP.
She didn’t think.
She threw herself to the ground—
as a gunshot split the night open.
The man cursed, stumbling back.
Another message flashed instantly:
Unknown: RUN TO THE NEXT BLOCK. LEFT CORNER. NOW.
Aurora scrambled to her feet, sprinting again—
her terror overtaken only by one question repeating through her mind like a heartbeat:
How does he know everything I’m doing?
The unknown messenger.
The man with the gun.
The shadow in her apartment.
And Viktor.
All orbiting her like planets around a star she didn’t know she was.
She ran faster.
And behind her, the man shouted:
“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE THIS, AURORA! NOT AGAIN!”
Again.
That word tore through her like lightning.
She stumbled.
But kept running.
Because she had no idea what “again” meant—
and she wasn’t ready to die before she found out.
- Writer
